Saints and Sinners
by Mariagoner
Summary: There truly is no fool like an old fool. And the oldest fool of all is the one who allows himself to fall in love when he knows that there is no chance of reconciliation, reciprocation, or even respite. An Abraham Van Helsing / Cardia Beckford love-story, soaked in both sentimentality and cynicism. For the Code: Realize: Guardians of Rebirth (Code Realize) fandom.
1. 1: Rewind

I've only been playing Code: Realize for only about a week but I've already fallen ridiculously hard for the Van Helsing/Cardia pairing. After all, how could I possibly resist the story of a fearless, death-seeking vampire hunter who falls deeply in love with a mysterious but courageous and compassionate young woman he can never even kiss?

And with that said, after realizing how few (read: basically nil) fics there are about them, I decided to rectify the situation a bit. And thus, here begins yet another drabble series, soaked in both sentimentality and cynicism. I do hope any Code: Realize fans about enjoy this.

And please let me know if you're interested in collaborating/role-playing about this couple… or even simply chatting about them!

* * *

 **Saints and Sinners** , Chapter 1

 _A Van Helsing/Cardia Story_

* * *

There is no fool quite like an old fool, and van Helsing feels ancient all the time.

He's barely even passed the border of thirty and when he looks at his reflection in the mirror, the picture of youth gazes back at him, eyes narrowed in surprise. His face is still youthful enough, his skin unlined enough, that he hardly looks like a hardened warrior who could send men fleeing with a smile. And if one knew nothing of him, one might even consider him to be nearly fetching – the thin face, that golden hair, those sharp eyes.

In fact, there is nothing that makes him look a jot older than most of the new… _companions_ he has recently acquired.

And yet, there can be nothing that ages a man more quickly than having blood on his hands.

And van Helsing has shed an ocean of blood already – an ocean in no way compensated by the medal he pins to his chest daily with a bow and a mocking smile.

He is an old man, no matter what his face might say – and he knows death stalks him all the time.

Van Helsing knows that just as keenly as he knows that his burdens belong to himself alone, and that dragging an innocent into his life would be a cruelty that even _he_ cannot abide.

He knows that he deserves nothing but the death that is due to him – that he deserves whatever bloody end that will occur eventually.

His whole life has been a blur of blood and bullet-holes - that is his fate and his _right_.

Only.

Only…

Only… everything has changed ever since he met Cardia and realized he wasn't quite ready to die.

There truly is no fool like an old fool.

And the oldest fool of all is the one who allows himself to fall in love when he knows that there is no chance of any reconciliation, reciprocation, or even respite.


	2. 2: The Strongest Stalker, Revisited

Though I don't have much of an audience (hello, all 2 people reading this tale!), I simply cannot keep myself from continuing it. Blame

And yes, somehow, this story suddenly became an AU from Chapter 2 onward in the original game. I have no real explanation - only a crazed conviction that if Van Helsing and Cardia were left alone, they'd end up being even more of a combustible couple than they were in canon.

And of course, me being me, I'm going to do my level-best to insert even more madness, blood-shed and sex than there was in the original story. Let's just say that eventually, Van is going to do his level best to find a Cardia-acid-proof dental-dam...

But all that's for later. And for now, let's get on with the second chapter of this would-be epic!

* * *

 **Saints and Sinners** , Chapter 2

 _A Van Helsing/Cardia AU Story_

* * *

The first time he had met her, all he had really registered was a blur of petticoats and a pair of terrified blue eyes.

He had still been searching for Finis' monster at the time by gun-point, half-expecting to meet something lurid, sometime unsettlingly like his old nemesis – something nearly cloyingly pretty, with mask-like beauty hiding the filth and rot beneath. So even as he had leveled his shotgun at Lupin's head, he had been scanning the environment around him for whatever guise the monster was in –

Was it the thief?

The alchemist?

Someone else around them?

Or even the harmless looking red-head gaping unattractively at everybody?

He hadn't even begun to suspect that it might be the girl splayed beneath Lupin – the one whose wide green-gray eyes he had looked away from.

(She had eyes that looked so much like the eyes of the vampires he had murdered before-)

(Eyes that were guileless and kind and wild – )

(Eyes he saw in nightmares always, and sometimes even in sweet dreams).

And then smoke and then fire and then the chase and then the hunt –

And then her emerging from where she had hid in the woods for her friends, hands trembling but face resolute and mouth open, telling him to leave them be.

It was the first time in a long time he had had to pause to take someone in – and found himself almost a little in awe of them.

After all, if nothing else, Cardia had never been found lacking in courage.

(If anything, her fault lay in the recklessness that accompanied it.)

(But then, _he_ was hardly her better in that department).

And even as he had reeled from the revelation that Finis' "monster" was a beautiful young woman who barely looked as though she could harm a flea…

The strangest bit of business was her very real _sincerity_.

She had truly meant what she had said, Finis' little monster girl, even as her protectors stood stricken around her.

When she said, "Just leave them be and take _me_ ," she had meant it with every strand of poison in her body.

And though it had been damnably difficult tracking her down – there were a pile of maimed men left throughout London with her secrets left on their bleeding lips – it ended up being the work of a moment to snatch her away.

Even the so-called _master_ thief needed just a warning shot against his shoulder to keep him from tampering with Van Helsing's gun and interfering with their escape.

And heaven help him, she'd been sincere indeed about running off with him already – enough to keep her mouth shut and her head down as he had lead her away from her ragtag band of companions and away from the woods, into London's raucous slums and streets, and finally into the sewers he had made his home for the last 2 years.

(It was the fitting home a hero of his statue deserved, Van Helsing often thought. It was just a pity the good Queen Victoria couldn't share it as well – she deserved it just as much).

And when they were finally alone in the damp darkness he called a home—

When they were finally alone and the full force of what he had done hit him at last—

When she turned her sad, innocent face up to his own, her guileless green-gray eyes blazing with a strange light, her dark hair flowing over her small shoulders, her flush lips opening up to speak, her small hands clasped before her—

And with that look in her eyes-

-That _look_ in her eyes-

And for a moment, he had almost wanted to take pity on this poor would-be monster.

Wanted to tell her it would be all right, that he would not actually harm her—

That he merely needed her to serve as bait, for the real monsters to come out to the light.

But however placidly she had come out with him before, she was an unknown force, and for all he knew might stab him in the back if he did not show her that he was not a man to be crossed.

So he cocked his gun once again and looked at her gentle little face and told himself to snarl appropriately.

"If you leave me," he said, and tells himself not to soften yet, "I will kill you and everything you have ever loved."

And he bit out the words so harshly that even he had believed it.

He had done so much worse before.

After all, no matter how innocent she might look, she was no more innocent than all the others he had destroyed in nights gone by.

He already had so much blood on his hands – what were a few more drops, honestly?

He expected her, then, to flinch, to tremble, to cry, even to pray – to do anything that broke the surface of the eerie calm that descended on her presently.

But she simply stared ahead of her, as though she saw something into the darkness that was beyond his eyes.

And then she looked at him and her lips formed something akin to a broken smile.

"All right," she had said, her hands trembling again but her eyes resolute. "So if I can't run from you, what _should_ I do?"

* * *

That was how their descent into hell began.

And god help him, even now, he cannot leave.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : By the way, would it be gauche to remind anyone reading this that reviews are much appreciated? I'm excited by the idea of Van/Cardia but I'm not a professional writer and whatever enthusiasm I have for this project greatly depends on the feedback I get. So if you enjoy this story, please drop me a note - perhaps we can even talk this story over and collaborate!


	3. Down in the Darkness

Another week brings another chapter of this. Consider it my holiday present.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Years, all my dear readers!

* * *

 **Saints and Sinners,** Chapter 3 **  
**

 _A Van Helsing/Cardia AU Story  
_

* * *

For seven nights after he brought her back to his den, Van Helsing kept the girl in chains.

It isn't that he wanted to be cruel to her – God knows, whatever other sins could be heaped upon his soul, deliberate malice had _never_ been among them.

But she was and unfortunately would likely always be an unknown quantity – a strange, beautiful, doll-like creature with an even stranger gem embedded above her breasts, glowing with an unearthly power that made even Van uneasy.

So he wound her up in chains across her delicate little hands and feet and slept across from her at night with his ever-faithful shotgun by his side.

It was the only method he could bring to mind, to keep himself safe with her as he kept a watchful eye.

And if binding her up while she looked so something small and vulnerable made him feel as though he were once more hurting an innocent who had done him no wrong…

Well.

Hard times made for hard men.

And Van's heart had long since hardened to diamond.

* * *

They spoke quite a bit in those first few days, surprisingly.

From his first meeting with her, Van would have pegged her as the quiet type. She hadn't spoken much during his first, admittedly tumultuous meeting with her, after all – in fact, she'd mostly stood around being silent and looking traumatized. He'd immediately pegged her as the sort who always did her best to blend into the background, however much her… _pleasing_ appearance might thwart that effort.

Of course, it didn't help that they had exhausted any relevant topics of conversation on the day they met.

It took only a few quietly menacing murmurs before she spilled out all she knew, which regrettably was no more than she had said before—

She was (supposedly) Issac Beckford's daughter and he had abandoned her only two years before. She knew nothing much of his plans or Twilight or even of London – her knowledge of the world somehow barely dwarfing that of an infant.

And while he supposed he _could_ torture her to see if extra pressure would cause her to say more –

But scruples were for strong men, and Van refused to be so weak.

And so far, at least, Van felt he could trust in her and her strange naiveté. Because if it was all an act, it was a damn good one, and she had to have been trained by the highest minds of Twilight itself in order to pass _his_ scrutiny.

He had been a fine actor himself, when he had been a saboteur in the Vampire War. And if she was good enough to fool him, he may as well give up and allow his head to go on Twilight's execution block.

But – he was quite certain that was not the case with gentle little Cardia.

If innocence and guilelessness could be heaped upon a woman like jewels, she would have outshone Queen Victoria with ease.

* * *

"Tell me a story," she murmured, on their third night together, her gloved fingers gently rubbing against the chains binding her fey feet together. And at his startled look, she added: "Any story. About any man or woman or animal you can think of."

Wistfully, she murmured, "I miss the story books I used to have in my house. It seems a little lonely without them."

And though Van was a hard man, he could not be quite _so_ cruel in the face of so much quiet sadness.

So he sat down and told her the story he knew best.

"There was once a boy," he said, "a very foolish boy, who decided to leave his family."

 _(-his mother and brother, waving goodbye-)_

"Though his mother had told him not to go…"

 _(-there had been tears in her sad, old eyes-)_

"He wanted too much to be a man and fulfill all his dreams of glory."

 _(-and he had wanted what he had now: a knighthood, renown, even **infamy** -)_

"He went to the largest city in all the kingdom and told a kind old man he wanted to be a part of their army."

 _(-poor Aleister, how much grief-)_

"And when the kind old man agreed, this stupid boy decided he wanted to be the very best soldier of all, and agreed to take part in very difficult training."

 _(-anything they offered, he told them, he'd do **anything** -)_

"And so the boy fought and fought and fought some more, until he'd conquered and killed all in war."

 _(-a mountain of corpses beneath his feet-)_

"And when he finally did all he had wanted to, he went home. "

 _(-and he had thought that would be the end somehow-)_

"And he found—"

 _(-droplets of blood on the stairs by his door-)_

"At the end he found—"

 _(-his mother's sad, old eyes, **besides** her corpse-)_

"He— he found—"

 _(-his family had both died **screaming** -)_

The discordant jangle of her chains brought him back; when he looks at her, her green-gray eyes are calm but careful.

"He didn't find what he was looking for, did he?" she asked, finally, after the screaming in his mind had receded.

And when he finally gained control of himself again, Van could even manage a reply.

"No," Van murmured at last, his voice very low.

He had found only nightmares where he had once sought dreams.

"He found something else to chase," Van finally said.

* * *

On their fourth night, she surprised him again, in that gentle way she mastered with ease.

"You told me your story," she said, as he lay down for his night's rest. "Now will you hear mine as well?"

Almost despite himself, Van nodded assent.

And after taking a quick, sharp breath, she went forward bravely.

And she wove for him, in the strange darkness of their third night, the story of a princess who woke from her dreams, to grasp at a very strange destiny.

Her story had dragons in it, and giant serpents, and other monsters of all configurations that tested the limits of credulity.

But even more so, it had friends and heroes – kind strangers, good comrades, even pets that flocked to support her valiantly.

And somehow, no matter what travails her princess encountered, she always triumphed with the support of all who helped her, who befriended her with such ease.

Van realized, with a strange sadness that seemed to seep into him, that she must have been lonely for a very long time to have spun out such detailed fantasies about a woman more loved than she ever been previously.

In the darkness, Van held his gun and listened to her lilting voice until it somehow rocked him to a quiet sleep.

And that was how they spent their first few days together – he and his girl with no heart-beat.

Sitting in the darkness, softly sharing their strange stories, wondering what would eventually become of them.

* * *

After a while, he began to bring her cake as both compensation and apology.

He brought her many things, actually, over the next few days – anything that would catch his eye on his excursions that seemed suitable to her even slightly.

It became almost a game, the first he'd played in a long time: to find something, any small thing, that might for a while coax out on a shy smile from the poor girl he kept captive currently.

He brought her toiletries at first, having some vague idea that girls – even strange girls with terrifying gems on their breasts – always did love them. But although Cardia looked curious and opened up all the packages of rose-scented lotions and soaps he brought to her, she didn't actually use most of them.

Odd though it was, she really didn't seem to… need to bathe or do much to refresh herself.

Actually, she didn't even seem to sweat.

More and more, he was growing unsure about whether she was fully… human.

 _(Like – that **other** -)_

But that alone wasn't enough to shake his resolve. So Van tried candies next, slipping them into the pockets of the rough-hewn clothes he gives her daily, trying as hard as he could toward nonchalance.

But though her smiles grew a little warmer, browner and stickier after a few days, chocolates alone seemed insufficient to make up for her… _predicament_.

So finally, Van brought her cakes instead – the finest cakes from all of the British kingdom, from the bakery he used to bring his brother John to on the rare times he could afford a visit. And he paraded them in front of her shocked face with the panache of a magician: angel, apple, banana cream, bunt, croquembouche, genoise…

In the end, it amounted almost to a small fortune.

But it was worth it to see her look almost happy for the first time since he had met her.

It… seemed to soften her to him, at least.

And of course, that was precisely what he needed and reason why he did it.

A cooperative hostage was always better than one that fought back.

It was merely – strategy.

She seemed to like the tiramisu best, her eyes going hazy with pleasure as she had slowly eaten it and brightening with a real spark of happiness when he had promised to bring her more in the future.

Almost despite himself, Van was glad.

It almost touched him, somewhere deep within the dark kingdom he called a heart, to see how little it took to make her happy.

She truly was such a gentle creature – one who deserved far better than the fate handed to her.

Van hoped to God he wouldn't have to kill her in the end.

* * *

On the eight day, after he returned from his investigations outside, he found her gone entirely and her shackles turned to ash.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Nothing makes me motivated to write more than reviews, dear readers. So if you've enjoyed this story and want to see more, please do let me know. It really does make me want to write more quickly.

Also, would anyone be willing to serve as a beta-reader and general fic fairy for me? I'm having some trouble figuring out the general plot outline of this story and would dearly love to talk it over with a fellow Van/Cardia fan. If you're interested, please contact me at my tumblr below or let me know you're interested - I'll send you my gmail account so we can chat!

I've also got a Van/Cardia blog up at tumblr, at vanhelsinghunts-dot-tumblr-dot-com. I'm doing a Let's Play of Van's entire route there, complete with much squeeing, screen-caps, and analysis. So if you're interested, please check that out.

And until then, Merry Christmas and Happy New Years for 2015/16!


	4. 4: Damsels and Dangers

Please note that this is a revised version of Chapter 4 that was edited to better explain Cardia's thought processes throughout this chapter. After discussing the frustration of playing passive otome protags who do nothing but sit around waiting to be rescued from danger, I decided I wanted to write a very different (and far more active) female protagonist. Therefore, this chapter was changed to reflect those hopes!

Thanks again to all my awesome friends on tumblr (flowermiko, miss ragdoll, joiedecombat, c0derealize, and theninjamouse) for sharing their awesome thoughts!

* * *

 **Saints and Sinners, Chapter 4 (Revised)  
**

 _A Van Helsing/Cardia AU Story  
_

* * *

In Cardia's old life, before she'd been whisked away by a dashing gentleman thief and an impish red-headed engineer, Cardia has always had a firm sense of what she should be doing.

That was not to say she always followed orders – God only knew how many people

( _Elaine Elaine Elaine **Elaine**_ )

Would still be alive

( _monster you killed my **mommy**_ )

If only she had always done what her father had asked her...

If only she had stayed, quiet and silent, in the vast tomb he had built for her, silent and still and not in the least curious about what world waited for her…

But even before the Queen's soldiers had come to uproot her, Cardia had been aware that she wanted more from life than to be closed into the walls of her father's mansion forever. She wanted more than just loneliness and fear and fairy-tales read while she huddled in the dark. And though she could never have dreamed of the escape she would make in the company of men who still confused her, there was a substantial and growing part of her who reveled in her new freedom and wanted newer answers.

After all, wasn't it strange for her to be abandoned so abruptly by her father?

How on earth had he managed to put something as powerful as the Horologium inside her?

And how on earth could she still exist without something as important as a _heart_?

And once she had all those mysteries to solve... well, there was a part of Cardia that knew she could never fade back into the darkness again, content to wait for a man who had long abandoned his own kin.

It wasn't that she actually thought she would have a heart-felt reunion with her father. He had abandoned her before and all the sweet words in the world could not make up for the sadness and rage she experienced when she thought of the legacy he had given to her. But though her feelings about the man were mixed, her reasons were finding him were clear. She wanted – no, she _needed_ – answers about what she really was. And maybe once she knew as much…

Well, perhaps at last she'd find out if all the suffering she had caused before really did make her a monster.

(Was she really to be blamed for all she had done?)

(Was it possible to be both victim and monster?)

That had been the plan as soon as she'd met Lupin and his gang, at least. They had been the first ray of hope she had experienced in years, even though their jostling and innuendo and hidden agendas often made her uneasy. (She knew, of course, that they all wanted something from her - but she had no one else to turn to for help, really). But then again, she hadn't reckoned that going into the larger world, even with a few dubious friends, would lead to her being kidnapped.

That much, she had to wearily admit, had been a twist that all the story-books in her library could not prepare her for.

And if she was a heroine in those same stories, she would not have needed to worry about being rescued in the least. Some handsome prince (she seemed to have many candidates for that title right now) would no doubt have found their way to her current cage and set her free. He would greet her with a smile, as had happened four times before, and lead her back to someplace that was just like home - that promised her warmth, happiness, and safety.

But after a week of captivity, even Cardia's hopeful heart had to admit that it seemed unlikely that anyone was coming. And while her captor seemed more courtly Beast than devilish Bluebeard so far, knowing that she'd been abandoned by her previous protectors-

 _(Were you too weak to protect me? Or did you abandon me when the villain proved too strong?)_

-Made a small part of Cardia's heart ice over, even as she found a growing conviction that she would have to make her own way in the world.

Relying on others never seemed to work out well for her in the long-run. Maybe it was time she found her own way home.

So, as the eight day of her captivity came, Cardia patiently waited for her rather… _strange_ captor to leave before she fell into action. And when she finally could hear no echo of his footsteps in the distance, she finally took off her gloves and melted the slender chains he had placed on her with her bare hands.

And once they were ashes, she rose both terror and determination in her heart, refusing to be caged any longer.

She was tired of being trapped within walls she'd never chosen, waiting for protectors who never came. And now she was going to set herself free.

* * *

The strange thing was, Cardia could not really find it in herself to dislike the man who had held her at gunpoint for the last week.

It would have been easy if she tried. After all, just two sweet weeks of relative freedom with her new companions had shown her that the world outside her father's mansion was even more compelling than she had ever known before. And even better, she was learning that with a bit of care, she could keep what had happened before

( ** _monster_** )

From happening once more. And once Cardia knew as much, she was even now learning to hate limitations, to want more freedom, and to look for any clues as to what could have happened to her and her father.

Given all that, it would have been very easy to despise Abraham Van Helsing. After all, it hadn't exactly been _pleasant_ to have a gun held to her head, be carted off to a damp sewer dungeon, and be interrogated over and over for answers she did not know.

And yet, for all of that… as their week together had unfolded with strange grace, Cardia had come to realize that Van Helsing truly wasn't a man given to cruelty or actions that might bring others pain. Even his "kidnapping" held some strange elements of… a sort of kindness, as he had gone out of his way to fire salt instead of bullets, cease from causing any lasting damage, and even treat her with care in captivity.

That didn't mean she forgave him for forcing her to go with him, mind. But for a kidnapper, he had certainly gone out of her way to entertain her with stories, inform her of his coming and goings, and supply her with toiletries. He had even gone so far as to bring her cake. And that made him a very strange "villain" indeed, even if he didn't quite rise of Monsieur Lupin's standard of elegant chivalry.

She had known monsters before.

She had _been_ a monster before.

She may still be one even now.

And she did not think that Van Helsing, for all his threats, fit that label neatly.

He was dangerous, of course. Though Cardia knew that her years lived in quiet isolation had made her more than a little naïve, she'd have to be a fool indeed to not realize as much. He had, after all, single-handedly defeated her three former companions in order to spirit her away, and she herself was no threat against him either. Couple that with his reputation as a war hero and an illustrious marksman who knew full-well how to use his guns and… well, Cardia knew that if she ever crossed his path as enemy instead of friend, her life depended on his mercy.

And as kind as he had been before, she did not know how far said mercy might extend.

But – even so, perhaps he could be some kind of help to her eventually - if she couldn't escape him, anyway.

Still, that left the question of what she should do next. And that question grew in her mind even as she melted off her chains with her bare hands, warily navigated the dank maze he had taken shelter in, and even now was climbing up toward sunlight.

Should she find her old "friends" – even though they could not protect her before?

(And if they could not protect her even from one man – how on earth could they do so against a massive organization that hunted her?)

Or – should she find another route to finding the answers she sought after?

 _(Who am I, father? For what reason did you make me?)_

And when Cardia found herself blinking in the sudden light as she dragged herself up from the darkness, more questions yet burned into her mind, even as she fled from Van Helsing.

Could she even escape this man?

Was he truly her enemy?

Or could he help her eventually?

Or – given how little the strength of others had helped her before - could he somehow teach _her_ how to be stronger if she could win his trust?

But those were only questions she needed to ponder if she couldn't run fast enough, Cardia reminded herself. And with a little more desperation in her step - and a heart-felt prayer that she would find more trouble tonight - Cardia fled into the dying London day.

* * *

A few hours later, as Cardia shivered in the quiet corner of smoky, dark London she had found her way within, she had to admit that she miscalculated. It turned out that being a reclusive shut-in for years on end had given her no real ability to navigate the tangled back-alleys of the British queendom's largest and most populated city. And though she'd done her best to try to find her way back to the relative safety of St. Germain's spacious mansion and her former companions, trying to tell one shady, dim-lit street from another proved impossible and now she was lost completely.

Worse yet, Cardia had the feeling that for the last few hours since she'd emerged from the darkness of the underground, she had been – _tracked_. And life being what it was for her, she felt dully resigned about eventually having yet another unpleasant encounter with someone who wasn't going to chain her up merely to give her pastries.

So when a group of thugs who may as well have had Trouble stamped on their faces came out of the dark to leer at her—

Well.

Suddenly, Cardia's memory of being Van Helsing's prisoner was looking positively _rosy_.

"Hey, missy," Thug 1 of 3 said, somehow spitting out the words through a passel of broken teeth. "You lost, little girl? You maybe need some help from me?"

Even a few days ago, that would have been Cardia's cue to ask him if he had any knowledge of London cartography. But though life might have left her a little naïve about the wider world, Cardia had a feeling that doing so would have led to him laughing at her face and lunging at her. And experience had since taught her that being menaced would normally be cue for some handsome man who was also on the run from the law coming out of nowhere to rescue her.

But frankly, after all that had happened to her since she had left the stifling but safe confines of her father's mansion, Cardia was tired of it all.

She was tired of being kidnapped right and left.

She was tired of men crawling out of the damn wood-work to try and take advantage of her.

And most of all, she was _tired_ of being a hapless damsel in distress who had to always run from others like a scared little hare.

Somehow, over the last few weeks of constant stress and worry, she had had _enough_.

After all that she had been through before, and all the men she had met who wanted to take advantage of her-

( _monster monster monster monster **monster**_ )

-or who had abandoned her when she needed them the most-

( _lupin impey victor st. germain, **why didn't you come back for me?!**_ )

After all of that, she didn't trust anyone else to rescue her.

And she didn't want to be weak prey for those who would hurt or hunt her any longer.

She was just so damn tired of waiting for the world to decide what to do with her.

She wanted to decide her own fate, just this once.

So when she surprised even _herself_ by leaping at her next would-be assaulter with an unschooled but ferocious fist aimed straight at his pug-ugly _face_ —

She had no attention left to pay to the distant click of a shot-gun shell discharging as she fell to her prey.

As far as she knew, she was alone again.

And for the first time ever, she was going to save _herself_.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : That's right. It's time for the kid gloves to come off and Cardia to show a little more of the relentless passion that drove her throughout Van's actual route in the game. It may be a bit early for her to be busting out of her "hapless doll" shell - but damned if repeated kidnappings and apparent abandonment don't make a woman sometimes want to stand up for herself!

In other news, thank you all for reading this strange AU story. Your reviews have been incredibly motivating and I hope you continue giving me feedback in the future. And please feel free to drop me a line at my tumblr (Vanhelsinghunts) if you'd like to discuss this story or Cardia/Van in general. I'm always up for a good discussion about strong otome heroines and the dashing men who love them!


	5. 5: Awakening

Another week brings another chapter, and much thanks to the many lovely friends on tumblr who helped me write a hopefully realistic fight scene for a ferociously strong but inexperienced Cardia. Special thanks once again to missragdoll, flowermiko, joiedecombat, c0derealize, and theninjamouse. You are all fabulous and wonderful creatures who inspire much creativity in me!

* * *

 **Saints and Sinners, Chapter 5  
**

 _A Van Helsing/Cardia AU Story  
_

* * *

Van had never thought of himself as a particularly cruel person.

Mind you, that fact alone did _not_ make him a particularly moral (or even redeemable) one. Any thought he had ever had about being a decent human being – one who mostly minded his manners, did as he was told to, and tried his hardest to support his family – had long since been washed away with the river of blood he had "liberated" in the name of God, Queen, and country over the last few years.

Van knew he was a damned man indeed. He had been since the time he had joined the accursed army. And he did not hope for redemption any longer – just a revenge he hoped to grasp before he was lost entirely.

But that did not mean he took any joy when it came to hurting… almost anyone.

(Anyone but the one.)

(Anyone but **_Finis_** ).

He had never wanted to hurt other people. In fact, once upon a time, he had even been foolish enough to believe that wielding a gun would allow him to _protect_ others. He had honestly thought that going to war would actually _help_ his family.

He had never been one to take pleasure in all he harm he caused.

But if sweet, hapless Cardia Beckford had been in front of him now…

 _(God help him, he had honestly felt **sorry** for her)_

If she or any of her thrice-cursed _associates_ had the ill luck to be standing in range of his shot-gun as he trembled in rage over what they had done—

Suffice to say that they'd be riddled with something far deadlier than salt just now.

After a week of observing the girl, Van was sure that her escape had to have involved a master thief, a brilliant alchemist, and… whatever the hell that annoying red-head was. Although Cardia had not appeared _foolish_ , per se, she hadn't struck him as having much wit or courage either. In fact, in many ways, she very much fit the ideal of Victorian womanhood: beautiful beyond telling (not that Van cared but he wasn't _blind_ ), demure in her manners, and adorably naïve in that way so many men enjoyed taking advantage of.

Were it not for the hounds of Twilight braying for her blood, she'd make an ideal angel of the house for any man willing to have her.

Van had never been attracted to delicate women, but he knew that many men were, and he was willing to bet that her white knights from earlier on had staged a rescue of her. And since Van very much doubted such a dainty little woman was capable of burning through solid chains and finding her way out of the sewers, she must have had help – help that he was going to track down and destroy before carrying her off once more.

No, Van had never _enjoyed_ hurting others.

But if that was what he would need to do to secure the girl that would bring his revenge forward…

 _(there was no way to get to Finis without the girl – he was too well guarded, too canny in his movements, too hard to find without something to lure him toward Van on neutral ground that Finis did not control)_

…Well, sacrifices sometimes had to be made.

And Van was more that willing to lay down one more ideal – _thou shall not kill men who have not hurt you first_ – down at the altar.

He had already committed atrocities before, to save his family.

He was willing to commit a few more to avenge them.

* * *

Of course, as the hours went by and Van found himself following a trail that stubbornly remained that of one person and one person alone… he found himself wondering if Cardia Beckford had had help liberating herself after all. That idea, so very absurd at first—

 _(he still remembered her smiling at him over a plate of half-eaten tiramisu, bound in chains, dwarfed by the danger in which he'd placed her)_

—Was returning to him with a fervor. After all, so far as he could see, he tracked but a single pair of feet out of the sewers and into the dark urban jungle.

Try though he might, Van could not see _any_ evidence of anyone else – let alone full-grown men like Lupin and his associates – helping Cardia in her desperate flight out. For one thing, Lupin himself was and had always been a professional. Van knew even his skills would have trouble tracking the so-called Master Thief if the man had decided to liberate the girl. And for another, the girl's clumsy tracks made it clear that she had depended on dumb luck to navigate her escape, as she constantly ran from one dead-end to another in a desperate attempt to leave. If Lupin or others had set out to rescue her, they should have been clever enough to map out an exit ahead of time and avoid such fruitless back-tracking.

All the evidence Van could find of Cardia's flight showed that she and she alone had somehow destroyed her chains – leaving nothing but smears! – and fled into the night by herself, despite having no idea of even where to go.

Van had tangled with the supernatural before, but nothing he had ever run into previously could manage to do anything of that sort.

God help them all, what even _was_ this girl? And what the hell was she doing with herself?

Was she even directing her actions – or was it the horologium inside her?

Then Van's hands tightened around his shot-guns as an even more sinister possibility brought itself to mind.

Or could she be a plant of Twilight, an undercover agent sent to lure Van into a trap of Finis' diabolical means?

Was she bait, not for Finis but for _Van_ – so that Van would let down his guard and then allow himself to trust her, to rely on her, and then be horribly betrayed by her?

(Van had played the same trick on the entire Vampire race before – and he knew well how terribly effective it was).

But if so, why the hell would she leave Van so early, and in such a dramatic and clumsy fashion? Van had been a superb undercover operative himself in the past, and he would never have tipped off his hand as blatantly as that. And even if Cardia had needed to flee from him with vital information of some sort – the thought of which made Van's teeth grind together – it seemed bizarre that she would end up blundering about like a fool child when any Twilight agent would know the back-streets of London by heart.

No, she was no agent of Finis', unless standards in Twilight had slipped markedly since Van had left the organization. But judging from her strange abilities, she was not _entirely_ the hapless and pitiable maiden that Van had first mistaken her for either.

She had managed to escape binds of iron and now she blundered about like a child in darkness.

What, in the end, was she?

"Cardia Beckford," Van whispered under his breath, as he hurried forward to chase her steps in the darkness of descending London. "What are you capable of? And do you even know what you're doing?"

And then, as the sounds of impending battle rang into his ears, Van's lips rose in a sinister smile.

That, at least, was something that didn't puzzle him in the least.

So, guns ready in his deadly hands, Van rushed forward to find the prize that he'd been chasing the entire night.

…Only to find that, his luck being what it was, the fight he had been looking forward to ended up having no room in it for him.

But that wasn't even what surprised him the most.

No, the real surprise was when Van saw the last fragile fibers of Cardia Beckford's remaining sanity **_snap_** after three weeks of unending stress – as she launched her small but startlingly swift body forward, tiny fist aimed at the face of the thug accosting her.

And even Van's eyes widened at the force with which it landed.

* * *

Cardia Beckford stood a few hairs over five feet tall and may have weighed a hundred pounds after her ridiculous dress was subtracted from the equation. She had the face of an angel, the voice of a sparrow, and the menacing presence of a kitten opening its eyes for the first time. After one saw her, it was easy enough to spin fantasies about her being some hapless young beauty plucked straight out of a convent – she certainly was naïve enough to many of the ways of the world. And it was far easier to picture her slender, sylphlike figure sprawled upon a divan than doing anything that required actual physical exertion.

In all ways imaginable, Cardia seemed like a pretty little bird meant to stay in any cage that could trap her – just a little too fragile to be freed into the world.

She was also, apparently to her own surprise as well as everyone else's, a newborn beast in battle.

After she threw herself at her first attacker with _astonishing_ strength, her fist hit his nose with a sickening _crunch_ that indicated that his already lovely mien would not be beautified any further. And were that not enough, her unexpected leap forward was enough to crush her against the thug, her body hardier than it appeared as she slammed it against him in full force.

Even Van had to blink to be sure he had just seen delicate Cardia Beckford pounce on a man like a starving tiger on a meal.

And from the startled gasp and then low groan the man gave as his head slammed into the unforgiving concrete, he was surprised as well – at least before consciousness fled from him from all that had occurred.

Of course, even with one thug unexpectedly downed, there were two other opponents still. And from the sudden fear that gripped the girl's lovely face in the lamp-lights illuminating London's darkness, he knew she saw them as well.

But before Van could decide to intervene – or even hold back and see what other tricks she might have beneath her sleeves – another thug flew toward her and she surprised him once again with unexpected tenacity and speed. It may have been born more from desperation than actual skill, but it impressed Van nonetheless.

Even if she was completely new to battle, the girl was acquitting herself quite well.

She rolled off the man she had down quickly, with quickness that her assaulters – or victims – could only hope to match. And when the man closest to her on the right growled, turned, and pulled his arm back in a punch, she surprised Van yet again by ducking beneath the blow and—

 _And_ –

Van was the hardened veteran of one of the bloodiest wars ever fought on English soil. He had personally been responsible for the defeat of the enemy king and the death of the men, women, and even children that fought with him. And even now, Van suffered intermittent nightmares of all that he had had to do – all the pain he had seen, all the pain he had _caused_ , and all the rivers of blood he had caused to run.

But even he had to wince as he saw Cardia's small but dangerous fist shoot out like a cobra and impact the man's _crotch_.

 ** _Damn_**.

Van made a mental note that if he ever had to fight the girl himself, he'd keep her at a distance, no matter what.

(He was ready to die if he had to – but even he drew the line southern down).

She seemed as surprised as anyone else when her punch unmanned her would-be assaulter, judging from how wide her eyes went as he blubbered and moaned and eventually collapsed altogether. Watching her stare at her own fist with fright almost made Van chuckle, however surreal the moment was. Still, even with thug 2 now down, clutching his undercarriage as though irreparable damage had been had, that left thug 3 still around – and he was clearly far more wary than the other fools might be.

And unlike thugs 1 and 2, this one had a weapon as well as a very smart mouth.

It was a relatively small thing – if 'small' was an adjective you could apply to a knife with a blade the size of a man's hand. But while the weapon wasn't anything that would fluster Van, he could tell from the shock on the girl's face that it was not something she expected to see.

"You little bitch!" the man bellowed, his voice shocking in the hushed silence that had overcome this corner of the world after Cardia had struck back. "I'll carve you up for what you just did!"

Van was perhaps 20 feet away from his two targets, expertly cloaked in a tangle of shadows that hid his presence while allowing him to see both clearly. It should have been child's play to pick up his long-range rifle and snipe the thug from this distance. But given the speed with which the girl moved, trying to do so might lead him to accidentally shoot _her_ should she once again start flinging herself into danger.

Gun in hand, Van cursed lady luck yet again, and began running to the disaster unfolding up ahead. But judging from the sudden conviction that dawned on Cardia's face just then, she didn't expect any last-minute rescues tonight – even if she direly needed it.

Her face held the look of a woman who had finished with being a victim. Almost despite himself, Van admired her for her bravery at that moment.

Whatever else Cardia Beckford was, she was no coward.

(And though Van would never realize it until much later, that was the first moment he had actually understood her).

"No," she returned, her soft voice somehow carrying to Van in his dark corner. "No – you won't. You won't do anything to me without my permission."

Then she closed her eyes then, as though in prayer, her quietly determined face glowing in the lamp-light.

"I won't let that happen again."

And before Van could intervene, she head-butted the man, using her face as a blunt battering ram, the force of her forward movement slamming her onto the bastard—

Van's fingers slipped off the trigger as he drew his gun away and ran even faster—

-Even as the knife in the thug's hand swung forward and _into_ her.

Which left Van just enough time to rush forward and peel an ominously still Cardia off a shrieking man whose face now looked as though it was starting to—

 _(goddamn, how was that even **possible**?)_

 _—_ starting to _melt_.

Van had wanted to know what the girl was capable of – but this was beyond what he had ever expected.

And when his wide eyes traced the sluggish trail of blood that ran down her front to the concrete beneath them both—

He saw that begin to sizzle and burn as well.

"What the hell are you?" he whispered, the horror and strangeness of the moment overcoming him. "My God, what did you _do_?"

But even as he carefully gathered her to him, using the train of her dress to staunch the flow of her strange blood as best as he could, he cursed himself for being too late yet again.

 _(You can't ever save anyone, can you?)_

It had only been a few seconds since the knife had stabbed into her heart – but the girl was already still and cold.

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Thanks for reading the story, one and all. It's a shame it's done in 5 short chapters but now that our heroine is dead and gone...

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... Heh. Don't worry. I'm not quite *that* sadistic! Another week will bring a new chapter. And until then, thank you so much for the support and the reviews. I cherish each and every one, and use them to spur myself on in writing. We may be a new fandom but we're a very loving one and your encouragement means a great deal to me.


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